gudaulin

Spike Jonze's film was preceded by a reputation as a cultured romantic spectacle with refined acting performances, artistic visuals, and a sophisticated aesthetic. In short, it was one of the hot candidates for the Oscars. The praise was not lying. If the film were a date, then She has a fine appearance, a meeting with her will definitely not offend anyone, and it is a date on a level where you don't feel like wasting your time with someone mediocre. But unfortunately, a connection with her didn't develop for me. I have no problem with the casting, as Joaquin Phoenix is an excellent actor and delivers exactly what is expected of him. He gives his character a sadly melancholic and even tragic dimension, and his loneliness gradually starts to hurt you physically. I also have no problem with the filmmaking in any way. What I do have a problem with, however, is the genre direction, as well as the way the characters are portrayed and the lack of identification with them. I also have difficulty with how the screenwriter works with the material. This theme directly invites a comedic approach, and in the first few minutes, it seemed to be heading that way and I was enjoying it. But as soon as it turned into a study of human loneliness and emotional dissatisfaction, I started to distance myself from the film. This is especially true when the director presents his protagonist as a victim and someone I should sympathize with. So, who is the victim then? Technology? It is just a tool that can be used well or poorly. If you look into a contemporary restaurant, you will see several couples who show much more interest in their mobile phones than in each other. But those phones are not to blame for their inability to communicate. Computers can save time and perform a huge amount of work, or you can mindlessly waste a lot of time with them. Online discussions can serve as excellent platforms for exchanging opinions and information, but also for empty talk and trolling. If Theodore is someone's victim, then he is a victim of his own nature and actions. I see a man prone to depression who refuses to admit his illness and wallows in his own self. I see a blind man who overlooks the values that are right in front of him. I see a fool who prefers a substitute where he can - and he really can - have a full-fledged relationship. There are very few film characters that I dislike as much as Theodore, and during the final scene on the rooftop of a high-rise building, when the protagonists are about to escape from themselves, I had the strong urge to kick those two cowards down myself. As for love for a computer program, in our world, there are countless substitutes and replacements for a romantic relationship. You can travel, immerse yourself in your work like a workaholic, or dedicate your feelings to fish in an aquarium. A computer program, if cleverly set up, could become a highly seductive and efficient substitute for love, but it will always be a one-sided affair. I grew up on the works of Stanislaw Lem, and they are marked by a deep skepticism toward the possibility of understanding between different civilizations, cultural circles, or even animal species. It is absurd to assume that if I cannot understand, accept, and love other members of the same species, I will gain and maintain a love for artificial intelligence based on completely different values and perceptions. Such a program would cease to fulfill its function precisely at the moment when the term artificial intelligence is fulfilled and it surpasses the barrier imposed by the program. By the way, this development would be much faster than Spike assumes. Overall impression: 45%.

In the life of most intellectuals, there comes a moment when they begin to reflect on the state of the world, and this is a very risky matter. In the overwhelming majority of cases, the conclusion is reached that the world is corrupt, full of injustice, suffering, and exploitation, and unless something drastic is done about it, it is inevitably heading towards a painful demise. If the world is lucky, it will remain with proclamations and warnings, perhaps resulting in an eco-activist essay or a film relentlessly attacking the villains of the world. Fortunately, most intellectuals belong to the realm of idle theorists, but occasionally the world is unfortunate and an intellectual goes from words to actions. Marco Ferreri, fortunately, is no Lenin and sticks to very superficial criticism of consumerism. There are topics that are popular to criticize in one's youth, while some are better criticized in one's prime years (for example, sexual promiscuity). However, there is a rare consensus against consumer society - young and old, small and large, all resist it. It always moves me how intellectuals despise me for my car, apartment, and four meals a day, and tell me of the example of a nomad somewhere in the Sahel who eats only one meal a day in poverty and is supposedly happier than me. I'm not sure if the nomad would eagerly consume if he had something to consume. It's amazing that whenever a poor society had the opportunity for economic advancement, it gladly gave up happiness and instead acquired refrigerators, cars, or motorcycles, enthusiastically imitating the lifestyle of the unhappy Western civilization. Those noble critics of consumerism miss many things - consumer society is by nature less radical, less eager for conflict, and less sick. Besides, communism was not destroyed by weapons and intrigues of Western imperialists, but by the long-term consumption of inedible products while our neighbors on the other side of the fence consumed to the extreme. Marco Ferreri attempted to make a satire of consumer society through four friends who decided to starve themselves to death. What motivates them, the director did not tell me. Was it that they could no longer handle the disgust at how the world around them consumed so disgustingly? The director approached four great actors of his era. Movie stars rarely live exemplary, modest, and environmentally friendly lifestyles; malicious tongues even claim that they are transported by air to film sets much more often than by bicycle or on foot. However, they rarely resist the opportunity to play in an anti-consumerist and anti-bourgeois film, and they invest maximum energy and persuasiveness into their roles. In its time, La Grande Bouffe sparked excited - of course, highly intellectual - debates and was considered an extremely controversial film that inflamed former moralists and prudish sanctimonious individuals. With the passage of time, I consider Ferreri's film to be somewhat superficial and pretentious. In fact, it does not tell me more than the famous dining scene from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. However, the Pythons needed less than two minutes to reach the same conclusion - that overeating harms health - and the entertainment value was considerably greater. Overall impression: 45%.

An interesting film standing between two worlds and showing us a dual face. The first world includes private producers of the 1st Republic and the Protectorate, a weak economic background, films made on the fly in a few shooting days, and a theme that was a bet on the right emotions in a small market and promised a quick return on investment. The second world belongs to nationalized cinema, where ambitious projects are created thanks to state support, focusing on a more demanding or minority audience, and dealing with serious topics. By its theme, A Dead Man Among the Living falls into the genre of psychological drama rather than a typical crime film. The film addresses questions of guilt, responsibility, and public opinion, which can quickly take stances and just as quickly change them, susceptible to manipulation and capable of being herd-like and cruelly unjust. The execution, however, is still typical of the First Republic era, and even the presence of the usually quality actor Karel Höger didn't convince me to give it more than 3 stars. The screenplay does not avoid having sentimental and melodramatic elements and culminates in a typically moralistic happy ending. Overall impression: 60%.

In the mid-90s, The Kingdom was a revelation on the television screen and, together with Lynch's Twin Peaks, it was proof that series can be made completely differently than before - more refined, more provocative, with consistent violation of serial conventions, mocking clichés, parodying characters and environments as well as traditional themes - and above all, mixing genres. Lars von Trier placed a horror supernatural theme into the serious setting of a royal hospital and confronted rationally-thinking doctors with the irrational world of the afterlife. At the same time, Trier proved himself as an eternal experimenter when he extensively tested the possibilities of handheld cameras or jump cuts. Personally, more than this search for a new film language (which I found rather annoying in the form of wild cutaways and restless handheld camera), I appreciated Trier's traditional ability to create gloomy images and, in combination with movement and music, to create a claustrophobic and suspenseful atmosphere. Even during the opening credits, when the camera slowly descends underground and from beneath cracking planks, accompanied by choral singing, and trickles of blood emerge, something monstrous can be sensed, I consider it a treat even after all these years. Unfortunately, Lars did not play with his characters nearly as long as Lynch, and I consider the subsequent continuation a loss in every aspect. With the passage of time, the first season of The Kingdom appears as a fragment of something that could have been grand and could have belonged among the deserved cult series. Nevertheless, even in this state, it remains interesting in its execution, but ultimately leads nowhere and is unfinished. I would still recommend Twin Peaks to those interested in this style of filmmaking. Overall impression: 80%.

The Decalogue was created in a special situation in a seriously ill country. Poland was unable to reconcile with the martial law from 1981 and the fact that the legal opposition in the form of Solidarity had to go underground. Repression and strict censorship became characteristic of the country in the following years. In the mid-1980s, Poland was deeply divided in terms of opinions and was economically and morally/socially in ruins. Only after the arrival of Gorbachev as the General Secretary of the Soviet Union did the pressure from the state power begin to weaken and prominent Polish directors returned to themes that were characteristic of the Polish moral unrest film movement. Acclaimed director Krzysztof Kieslowski, who had to remain silent for several years after his film Blind Chance, was looking for a subject with a strong substance that would avoid direct political engagement and not contribute to the already tense societal atmosphere, but at the same time would also address fundamental questions of today's morality. As a deeply religious person, he logically chose the biblical Ten Commandments as the ideological basis for the cycle of 10 hour-long television films, with each episode dedicated to one commandment. With the exception of the last episode, which has a comedic tone and is lightened mainly by the presence of Jerzy Stuhr, the others are more intimate dramas, often of a very tragic nature, dealing with the loss of a loved one, execution of a condemned person, or attempted suicide. The series had a significantly limited budget, and Polish state television, promoting it as a religious work, put it in an uninteresting broadcasting time slot. However, it immediately gained extraordinary respect from the viewers and was broadcast by many TV stations abroad with a great response. It was precisely The Decalogue that made Kieslowski famous in France, where he could then realize his film trilogy referring to the ideals of the French Revolution. Overall impression: 90%.

Originally, I had no reason to waste time with this series, as there are many shows and significantly less free time. The flood of categorically formulated waste and terrifyingly negative comments sparked my curiosity as to whether it is really as bad as the legends claim. After the roughly 20 minutes that I spent with the snowman, I must confirm that from time to time public opinion aligns with reality. Attempts at situational gags can be divided into two categories - roughly half and half: the first completely miss the mark in terms of not only my concept of humor, but I fear also anyone's concept of humor because it is desperately awkward and unfunny. The second half has potential, but it is killed by bad acting, and incompleteness, and it's rushed; I can imagine that it would work if there were different actors. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Coincidentally, I am currently watching the British series The League of Gentlemen, where the truly inappropriate humor is often on the edge, but what the Czech group is doing is far away from this not just by one, but several galaxies. It reminds me of the stories from the members of the Monty Python group about how their sketches were created. They spent hours working on them, refining, transforming, adjusting, crossing out, and rejecting. Here, I am afraid that the Czech sketches were created on the fly by public television. Overall impression: 5%.

A television studio game that does not look at Czech history and famous rulers with admiring eyes and does not depict Ottokar I of Bohemia as a noble knight of exceptional virtues, but as a cynical pragmatic man who is determined to follow his own path and does not care about his surroundings. You believe in Josef Somr as the king and realize that, despite his historical greatness, he was not alien to anything human and could be impulsive, petty, cruel, and loving. Overall impression: 60%.

In his feature debut, Tarkovsky already showed what his strongest aspects were - camera work, the ability to create magical images, a lyrical atmosphere, and sensitive selection and work with actors. While his film lacks the famous ideological fervor and heroism typical of Soviet war movies, it is, nonetheless, much more civil and focuses not on ideology but rather on patriotism. This early piece by Tarkovsky is probably the most sympathetic to me (although far from the best) for one simple reason. Here, he still holds back and manages with a very reasonable runtime. The long shots are thus not tiring or burdensome. Tarkovsky's work can be seen as the absolute opposite of today's music video production, which relies on wild editing and camera movements. In Tarkovsky's work, the image itself and its composition are important. Overall impression: 65%.

I don't even know what I was hoping for when I started watching this 80s TV detective show. I just wanted to remind myself of what TV productions were like back then and compare it to the current state. Anyway, this is the weakest work by director Svoboda that I have seen so far. Boredom, dullness, desperation. Today's TV producers have something to build upon. Overall impression: 10% for the actors.

A mystifying story about a cunning revenge and a man maneuvered into a situation reminiscent of its hopelessness and absurdity, slightly resembling Franz Kafka's "The Trial." Alain Delon plays the somewhat unusual role of an antique dealer who feels that something is not right but does not know how to escape the tightening noose. The twist revealed by the director at the very end is indeed impressive, and the whole story subsequently leaves you with a bitter taste. However, I cannot help but point out that in this film, things are set in motion not due to natural causes but at the instigation of the screenwriter. As a whole, it is simply too improbable and artificial, constructed for participation in festival showcases. Overall impression: 70%.